


Oh Baby

by someofthissomeofthat11011



Series: Bramverse [3]
Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 14:38:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15075287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someofthissomeofthat11011/pseuds/someofthissomeofthat11011
Summary: From Bram's POV. In mid-May, right after school gets out for the summer, Simon and Bram try to bring their families together for the first time for a family game night. This falls in the same universe as Baby Steps and Karma, but you do not need to read those first to understand this story!





	Oh Baby

**Author's Note:**

> So someone requested a family game night fic and this isn’t exactly… okay, this isn’t even close to being that. But once I started writing it, this is what happened.

It starts with a conversation. “My parents think I’m too serious,” Simon says quietly.

“What?” I ask uncertainly. We're studying for finals at my place and it's the first time either of us have spoken in hours. It seems kind of out of the blue, but by the look on his face I have a feeling he’s been working himself up to tell me this.

“My parents think I'm too serious,” he repeats. I still don’t understand what he’s saying. How could anyone possibly think he’s serious? I love Simon with all my heart, but I’m pretty sure if you look up ‘serious’ in the dictionary, ‘Simon Spier’ is listed as an antonym. He knows when to be serious if he has to be, but it’s not something I would ever use to describe his personality. My confusion must show, because he clarifies, “about us.”

I sit up straight, my heart pounding in my chest. I know that Simon values his mom and dad's opinions, but I've never hoped so much in my life that he disagrees with them. I know we got really serious really quick, but we went through a lot. And we’re so sure of each other. We deserve to be serious. “What did you say to that?” I ask him.

“We got in a bit of a fight over it,” he admits. “I hate fighting with my parents.”

“What does that mean for us?” I ask.

He bites his lip. “Here’s the thing. They think we’re too young to… to know that we’re with the right person and…” he cuts himself off. “We've talked about some things and we’ve joked about being together forever, but we’ve never had a real conversation about it. And obviously I know you love me, but loving someone and having a future with them are two different things.” I have a feeling those are his parents’ words more than they are his. “And before I really fight my parents on this, I need to know where you stand.”

“How do you feel about us?” I ask curiously. It’s true that we’ve joked about it, but I always assumed that both of us meant those jokes.

He looks me right in my eyes. “We  _ are  _ young, but I’ve never been so sure of something as I am about you. My parents think my perfect guy might still be out there, but I don’t think there’s a point in looking because I think I've already found him. And I don't expect us to get engaged or married anytime soon. I think those are conversations for the future… far, far into the future. But they are conversations I intend to have with you and only you at some point.”

I can't stop smiling. I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible for me to stop smiling right now. I don’t think I realized until he said it that we needed to have this conversation. It’s not about rushing our relationship. It’s important to make sure that we actually want the same things and that we’re not just assuming that we feel the same way. And hearing that he does want to be with me forever makes my heart soar. “I agree. I don’t even want to think about marriage or what comes after that right now, but when I do think about those things, I think about them with you. I… I love you and your parents, but I don’t care if they think we’re too young. I don’t think we’re too young to know this. I plan to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll let me.”

“If I’ll let you,” Simon snorts. “I’m pretty sure you’ll have to pry yourself away with a crowbar if you want to leave.” He’s smiling really big and he’s looking at me like I’m precious and I just feel like melting.

I push my textbook aside and scoot a little closer to him. That’s how you know it’s love - there aren’t many people I would choose over my studies. In fact, Simon might be the only one. “I don’t think I’ll be needing that crowbar,” I assure him. His hand is close enough, that I’m able to rest one of my hands over his.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he says with a smile. He threads his fingers through mine. We’ve been together six months and I’m still waiting for these feelings to wear down. We were told a couple of weeks, a couple of months at the most and we would stop feeling so overwhelmed around each other and that we would stop feeling the need to have some kind of contact. It’s a good overwhelmed and I can’t say I’m upset that it hasn’t worn off yet, but sometimes it’s embarrassing. The intensity of these emotions still surprise me.

“How did this come up with your parents anyway?” I ask after a moment of silence.

Simon turns bright red and looks at the floor. He looks guilty about something and he withdraws his hand. “They know we’re having sex,” he admits quietly. “They found some condoms in my bedroom, which is a complete invasion of privacy I might add. But they didn’t seem to think so. They both sat me down and had the exact same sex talk with me that they’ve had like five times at this point. And I may have said something stupid.”

“Which was?” I press. I really don’t want to think about the fact that Simon’s parents know we’ve slept together. That’s a big barrel of discomfort that I will process later.

“Okay, so it may have been a series of stupid somethings. But in defense of me… I am pretty freaking stupid. You knew that when you started dating me,” he points out. He actually sounds nervous.

This is gonna be bad. He’s rambling. He only rambles when it’s really, really bad. The last time he rambled like this, someone at school had asked him if he ‘wanted some’ and he’d told them that I was more than enough for him. He admitted that his reaction to what he said probably gave him away more than his words had. He’s not always… okay, he’s not ever the most rational person when he’s upset about something. But that’s one of my favorite things about him. “What did you say?”

“That it doesn’t matter if we’re having unprotected sex, because you’re the only person I ever plan on sleeping with. And right after I said that, I realized they thought I bought condoms because we were planning on having sex and not because we were actually having sex,” Simon tells me. He’s looking at my ceiling now. “And then I was mortified, naturally, so I told them that our sex life was between me and you and that it was none of their business and they said it certainly was their business if we weren’t being safe.” Simon shakes his head and I can tell from his expression that there’s more. He takes a couple of seconds to regroup. “And because I was upset by everything that had happened, I told them condoms are overrated when it comes to oral anyway.” If possible, he looks guiltier. “I also may have told them that we both got tested because we recognize that condoms aren’t 100% effective and we wanted to make sure we were being safe. And because I kind of got a little angry when they insisted that I was too immature to know that I wouldn’t have other sexual partners, I…” He looks at me uncertainly. “I do just want to remind you that you knew what you were getting yourself into when you started dating me.”

“What did you say?” The exasperation in my voice is noticeable, but I can’t help it. Simon is exceptionally skilled at stalling when he wants to. If I let him, he would go on like this for hours.

“I told them we didn’t need to worry about other sexual partners because you and I weren’t into threesomes. I’m an idiot, alright? And if I were thinking clearly, like at all, that never would have happened. But I felt so ambushed. And it’s one of those things that my brain thought after I said it out loud. And if it helps, my parents launched into the Great Spier Sex Debate of 2015 where they talked about what to do with me… in front of me for almost an hour. And I’m sure will be the first of many.”

I can’t help myself as I start to laugh. And once I start, I can’t stop. Part of it is that I am so, so, so ridiculously relieved that I was not present for that conversation. Scientists and doctors claim spontaneous combustion isn’t actually possible, but if I had to listen to that conversation I’m pretty sure I would prove them wrong. The other part is that this is just absurd. The fact that adults are trying to tell us that we’re too young to know we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives. I’m 99% sure that Simon’s parents have talked about how they were high school sweethearts, so pot calling the kettle black much? When I manage to calm myself down, I ask, “is there any part of our sex life they’re unaware of at this point?”

“I mean, I didn’t answer them when they asked me when we were finding all this time to have sex,” he says with a shrug. That’s probably a good call since a lot of sneaking around happens so that we can make time. “And it’s not like I was like, ‘hey mom and dad. Do you wanna hear about sex. Bram’s’-”

“Okay point taken,” I interrupt. My face feels warm and I simultaneously really want to know where he was going to go with that and don’t want to know at all. “Were your parents upset about it?” They could definitely make our relationship significantly more difficult.

“They weren’t as upset about the sex as they were that I didn’t tell them we started having sex,” Simon explains. His eyes are cloudier than usual and I know he’s thinking about something. “I didn’t tell them when we started and I think they assumed we’ve been sleeping together this whole time.” Don’t I wish? “I didn’t exactly correct them.”

“That’s probably for the best,” I tell him. “So should I expect any uncomfortable talks when we study at your house tomorrow?” I figure it would be best to mentally prepare for it.

He sighs. “Why don’t we study here again? When you get out of church, I can come over,” he suggests.

“We can’t avoid this forever,” I point out.

“We can try,” he argues.

“Maybe it will be good to have your parents sit us down. They’ll see that we’re both serious about this.” I grab his hand again. “And no matter what they say, we’ll be in it together.”

He grins and scoots closer to me so that we’re right next to each other. “Is it bad that I want to start singing High School Musical right now?”

I groan. “I have so many regrets,” I tease. I love hearing Simon sing, but if I have to listen to ‘We’re All In This Together’ one more time, I might scream.

“So, that’s a no?” he confirms. They had done a small performance of a couple of songs from the movie a few weeks ago for the middle school to get the 8th graders excited for high school and certain songs… well, a specific song, seems to be stuck in Simon’s head.

I don’t answer him, I just brush my lips against his. Suddenly something occurs to me. “Do you think your parents will talk to my mom about…” I can’t make myself say it. It’s bad enough his parents know we’re having sex, but the thought of my mom hearing it from them… I don’t even know how she’d take it.

“I think it’s likely. They want to be a united front with us,” he says with a troubled look in his eyes. He’s not wrong. Even if they’ve never formally met, my mom and his parents talk a ridiculous amount.

I sigh. “I guess I should tell her tonight.” I really don’t want to. I guess I kind of always thought that we would never talk about it and she would eventually assume it had happened.

“I’m sorry. I really wish you didn’t have to,” Simon tells me. “I wish neither of us had to talk to parents about this kind of stuff. But parental obligation yadda yadda.”

“I don’t want to think about this. Distract me.” And he does. All thoughts of my mom fly out of my head.

Simon leaves a few minutes before my mom gets home. All through dinner I’m jittery and nervous. But no matter how much I try to get the words out, I can’t do it. I can’t tell my mom.

I’m frustrated with myself when I get back to my bedroom. I throw myself down on my bed and I’m half asleep when I hear a thump. I look up to see Simon at my window. Simon never sneaks in. Part of it is that he’s terrified of my mom, but mostly, he doesn’t want to betray her trust like that. My mom loves Simon. Quite possibly more than she loves me, so Simon goes out of his way to make sure she’s following her rules… at least when she’s home. When she’s gone, he’s a completely different story.

He knocks again. What is he doing? I rush to my window and open it. Now that I’m closer, I can see that his face is puffy and red - a sure sign that he’s been crying. I push out the screen and he climbs in.

“What’s wrong?” I ask softly.

“So I have mentioned that I’m a complete idiot, right?” Simon confirms.

“What did you do?” I don’t take my eyes off of him. I’m not too worried because I don’t think he could have gotten in much worse with his parents.

He bites his lip. “I walked in and my parents asked me if I had a good conversation with you. I don’t even think they meant it in a bad way, but I snapped at them and told them they needed to get used to you, because you weren’t going anywhere.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I observe.

“And then I accused them of only feeling this way because I’m gay. I told them if I was straight and you were a girl, we wouldn’t be talking about me being too serious or wanting to meet other people.” He’s looking at my floor and he looks utterly ashamed of himself.

“Oh, Simon,” I sigh. He crossed a line with his parents. I remind myself it’s not my job to chastise him. He needs my support, not my criticism. Then something occurs to me. “Do you actually believe that?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he admits. “When I was dating Anna, they used to joke about us being together forever. My mom would say stuff like ‘let’s break out the wedding albums’ or that our babies would be so cute. They did the same thing with Carys. They don’t make jokes like that about you. And I dunno… I guess comparatively, it seems like they’re more eager for me to meet some other guys than they were for me to meet other girls. Like maybe they’re hoping I’ll be straight again if I do.”

“I think you’re taking that a little far,” I say gently.

“I don’t,” he bites back.

“You know that you’re parents love you,” I remind him. “Remember, you didn’t sleep with any of your girlfriends. Maybe it was easy for them to joke about you having a real future with your girlfriends, because you weren’t serious with them and that didn’t seem likely. But we’re obviously… very serious. And I really don’t think your parents think you’ll turn straight if you date other guys, mostly because that would be a little counterproductive. They just want you to be sure of me.”

“You’re probably right,” he grudgingly admits.

“I think that may-”

“Bram?” My mom calls outside my door.

Uh oh. I glance around my room. It’s cliche, but it’s the only hiding spot available. “Just give us a minute,” I warn Simon as I push him into my closet and close the doors behind him. I open my door and my mom walks in with a load of laundry.

“You left your clothes in the dryer and I needed to do a load,” she explains.

“Sorry about that,” I apologize. She puts my clothes on my bed just as Simon jumps out of the closet. He lasted about thirty seconds in there.

“Nope,” he says determinedly. “I spent four years trying to come out of the closet, I’m not about to go back in. Mrs. Greenfeld, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was here, but I got in a fight with my parents and I needed to see Bram.”

“Is everything alright?” My mom asks. I know without looking at Simon that this is the right time to tell her.

“You should probably sit down,” I say nervously.

She takes it better than I thought she would. Though she pointedly moves from sitting on the edge of my bed to sitting in my desk chair as we tell her, which makes Simon blush. I have a feeling she already had her suspicions, which probably helped. 

What surprises me the most is that she disagrees with Simon’s parents. “You can dabble and meet other guys and in the end, you could still think you’re with the right person when you’re not,” she tells us. It takes me a minute to realize she’s not just talking about me and Simon. “If you're sure of your relationship right now, I’m not going to get in the way of that.”

I give my mom a hug. She tells Simon that she’ll call his house and let his parents know he’s spending the night. I think she knows as well as we do that we’re not going to do anything while she’s home and even after the conversation we just had, she trusts us. It makes me feel warm all over. I’m pretty lucky. She closes my door enough to give us some privacy, but not so much that it’s fully shut.

Simon and I climb into my bed. He leans into my chest and immediately I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be. Kissing him and the like are great, but I never feel as content as I do in moments like this. It’s the feeling of closeness and comfort.

“That went well,” Simon observes.

“Yeah,” I agree. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. “Better than I thought it would. I thought at the very least, she would give us a sex talk.”

“I guess she thought it was moot,” Simon says with a shrug.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say. But I kind of doubt that. Maybe she’s in shock, but I have a feeling she’s known for awhile and I feel like there’s something I’m missing. “So what I was trying to say before my mom came in is that I think both of us should sit down and talk to your parents tomorrow. We shouldn’t wait for them to start the conversation, we need to tell them how we feel. Maybe if they hear it from both of us and if they see we’re taking the initiative to start the conversation, it’ll mean something different to them and will show them that we do make mature decisions when it comes to our relationship. And if it doesn’t make a difference, at least they’ll know where we’re at and that it’s not just you that feels this way.”

“I would love to have you as a buffer during that conversation with my parents, but are you sure you want to do that? It’s not going to be pretty,” he tells me.

“I’m not a buffer, I’m your boyfriend. And I’m here for you,” I promise him. “There are some things you shouldn’t have to do alone. And this battle you're fighting with your parents? It concerns both of us.”

“Thanks,” he whispers. After a few minutes, he buries his face in my shoulder - a sure fire sign that he’s exhausted. I don’t think he realizes he does this, but every time he’s about to fall asleep it happens.

Sure enough, within minutes his breathing slows. Once he’s asleep, very little will wake him up. So, I don’t feel particularly bad when I have to get out of bed to turn off the light. He sleeps through it.

I think I doze off at several points, but I’m up most of the night and I give up on sleep long before Simon wakes up. I can’t make myself stay asleep. I think I’m anxious to talk to Simon’s parents, because I realize that if it doesn’t go well, they may very well stop supporting us as a couple and I don’t think our relationship will survive that, no matter how much we want it to.

I’m awake when my mom checks in on us when she wakes up. And I’m still in bed when she tells me we’re leaving for church in a bit. I can’t bear the thought of waking Simon up and I’m almost 100% sure that he’ll still be asleep when we get back.

I leave him a note just in case.

“Thanks,” I say quietly as we’re on our way to church.

“For what?” My mom asks.

“For taking our side. It means a lot that you don’t think we’re too young to be this serious.” I don’t take my eyes off of her.

She shrugs. “It wouldn’t do any good if I did think that. There are some lessons you can only learn through experience and that’s one of them. Though I sincerely hope you never have to learn it.” She purses her lips together and I can see that she’s deep in thought. “I have to admit, I was a little concerned at first. The two of you did seem to be serious right at the beginning, but… I don’t know. I’ve never seen two people act the way you and Simon do. I think that circumstances have made you more sure of some things that most adults in relationships have trouble being sure of. I think I understand where his parents are coming from. It’s easy to see you as two seventeen year olds that can’t possibly understand what love is. It’s a little harder to remember that no matter how much we want it to be like every other relationship, the odds have been stacked against you from the beginning. The stuff the two of you have had to go through together because other people don’t understand… I think it’s made the two of you a stronger couple more than we can possibly realize.”

I’m going to have to think about all that later. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did, but ask away.” She has a tight smile on her face so I think she knows what’s coming.

“Why are you so okay with us?” I ask. “And I’m not just talking about us dating.”

She stares out at the road as if she’s concentrating extra hard on driving. “I think I realized that you’re old enough to make your own choices. It would be a wasted effort to be upset over something that I have no control over. I may want you to be my little baby boy that called his crackers ‘Bram crackers’ and thought that I was a superhero, but you’re not anymore. My little baby is all grown up.” A single tear slips down her cheek.

“I’m still your little boy,” I assure her. “I’ll always be your little boy. And you’ll always be my supermom, no matter how old I get. Even when Simon and I are married and we adopt some kids.”

She smiles, but still doesn’t take her eyes off the road. “I hope that’s true. I’m really happy you found someone like Simon. It’s obvious the two of you love each other very much and if there’s anyone I trust to…” she falters on her words. “to take care of you, it’s him.”

“He does mom. He takes care of me, even when I don’t even realize I need it.” My mom looks a little embarrassed and I don’t understand why at first. I don’t understand until she mumbles something about too much information. That’s when I realize that take care of me was a metaphor. “God, mom. That’s not what I meant!”

She shrugs and grins. “I don’t need to know.”

I’m mortified into silence after that. I’m pretty sure this is one of those situations where if I try to say anything, I’d just be digging myself into a deeper hole, so I resolutely keep my mouth shut.

I feel bad, but I cannot concentrate on anything during church. Well, I can obsess over talking to Simon’s parents, but other than that I cannot concentrate on anything.

When we get back I am shocked to discover that not only did Simon wake up on his own - something he is dead set against during the weekend, but he also started making breakfast. He has several pieces of french toast piled on a plate and a few more soaking.

“Smells good,” I say as I walk in the kitchen. I squeeze his shoulder, which is pretty much our equivalent of a good morning kiss when other people are around.

“Yeah, well I figured this was the best way to delay going home,” he says with a shrug. I can see legitimate panic in his expression despite the neutrality behind his words. I guess I’m not the only one freaking out about this.

“It’ll be fine.” I don’t think I believe my words, which he immediately picks up on if his eye roll is any indication.

Fortunately, we don’t have too much time to dwell on it, because he finishes making the french toast and after a quiet breakfast, we’re on our way to his house. I fill him in on what my mom said as we drive to his house and he looks thoughtful as he considers her words.

We linger in his car for several minutes. “So we’re going to find your parents and ask them to sit down in the kitchen with us,” I say.

“And then I’m going to say that you and I had a long talk,” Simon adds.

“And then we’ll plead our case,” I finish. “And neither of us are going to accuse your parents of being homophobic or get angry with them.”

Simon looks paler than usual as we get out of his car. He grabs my hand before we get to the door and he pulls me towards him. “I love you,” he whispers. He kisses me gently. In the kiss, I can feel his fear.

“I love you too. Nothing bad is going to happen,” I promise him. “When we finish talking to your parents, you and I will still very much be in love and we’ll still be together.”

He still looks nervous, but there’s nothing I can say to ease his anxiety. We finally walk in and I’m pretty sure he’s cutting off the circulation in my hand with how tight he’s holding it, but I don’t complain. He doesn’t let go of my hand as he guides me to the living room. His parents and Nora are sitting on the couches. Nora has her laptop open and looks pretty immersed in what she’s doing there while his parents are watching some TV show. I’m not surprised that Alice isn’t here. She only got back from college a few days ago and she hasn’t woken up before 1pm any of those days.

“Mom, dad?” Simon says tentatively. “Bram and I would like to talk to you in the kitchen.”

We go to the kitchen and sit side by side on one side of the table. When his parents come in, they exchange uneasy glances before they sit down.

“We wanted to talk to you, because Bram and I had a long talk about our future,” Simon starts.

His mom holds up her hand. “Please tell us you didn’t do something like get engaged because of what we said,” she pleads.

My jaw practically drops. “We’re not engaged,” I say quickly. “We’re seventeen.” Both of his parents look immensely relieved. I can’t believe they thought we would have gotten engaged. They clearly don’t think much of our judgment. Which is probably the exact problem. “Mr. And Mrs. Spier, what we wanted to talk to you about is… after your talk with Simon, we had a really long talk about what we wanted from this relationship and whether we could see a future with each other. I know Simon may have said some things in his embarrassment and his frustration that may have made it seem like we’re incapable of having a mature relationship.” I kick Simon’s foot as he opens his mouth and he immediately clamps it shut. He’s not going to help if he says something he regrets. “I love your son and I understand that you think we’re too young to be sure of each other, but…” I take a deep breath. “I think you’re wrong.”

I look up from the table to meet his parents’ shocked expressions. I don’t think they look angry, which is a good thing. I don’t think I’ve ever done something like this and before the terror has a chance to set in, I force myself to continue talking. “Simon makes me a better person. He makes me more confident in myself and he’s the first person that made me feel like some things in life are worth fighting for. You don’t have to understand and you don’t have to agree with us, though we would prefer for both of those things to happen. What we do ask is that you respect that it’s our choice. I believe in us and I believe that we will be together for the rest of our lives. We are mature enough to know that we don’t want to get engaged anytime soon and to know that being in a serious relationship isn’t easy and that it shouldn’t be easy. I don’t think we’re going to live the rest of our lives without fighting and I think there will be moments that will test our relationship, but we both plan on working through all of that together.”

I glance at Simon and he’s looking at me in amazement. “That goes for both of us,” he whispers. “We don’t want easy. Everything about this relationship has been difficult. I mean we’re gay in the middle of freaking Georgia and we didn’t have the smoothest introduction to the world. People are constantly telling us we’re wrong and that our relationship shouldn’t be. There’s one guy at school that asks us everyday if we’re ready to accept Jesus into our hearts. We can ignore those people, but we can’t ignore you. And we need you to understand that we look like two regular seventeen year olds in a relationship, but when is the last time a straight couple had to stand up for their relationship on every date? When’s the last time a straight couple had to worry about what people would do once they find out? I’ve spent so much time trying to convince you that we’re like any other couple, but we’re not. We’re stronger. Because we’ve had to be. But all of that will be for nothing if we don’t have you on our side.”

“We are on your side,” his mom says seriously. She takes a deep breath. “We may have been quick to forget that it’s not easy for you two to be in a relationship and that the obstacles you’ve overcome have matured you in ways that we never had to mature in. We don’t want to see you get hurt because you’ve only been with one boy, but we do respect that it’s your choice. We’re sorry if we became another obstacle for you two. That was never our intention. We love both of you.”

“Thank you,” Simon says softly. “You have no idea… it means a lot to us.”

His parents exchange uncomfortable looks again. “We do have some questions for you. And we would appreciate legitimate, non-sarcastic answers,” his mom says. She’s looking right at Simon with an expression that clearly says ‘I’m talking to you’.

“We’ll do our best,” I assure her.

It’s a pretty rough conversation. They ask a lot of questions that Simon and I don’t really want to talk about with them, but we do our best… well, I do my best. Simon mostly sits there and looks like he wants to disappear.

When we escape, we go back to Simon’s bedroom. We do actually have some work to do. Finals start tomorrow and if we don’t do well on them, it could impact AP placements. Despite knowing how serious finals are, I’m having trouble studying and when I look over, I realize Simon has made no move to open a single book. He looks thoughtful.

“What’s going through your head?” I ask him.

“I think we should host something so that our parents can meet. Including your dad and stepmom,” he tells me. “Something to get our families used to each other now. We’ve told your mom and both of my parents how serious we are, now let’s show them.”

“You know we’d have to do it soon or you’ll have to wait months, right?” I confirm. “My stepmom is due at the end of June.”

“I know,” he agrees. “We can do it next week. Alice is home and hopefully your stepmom and dad will be able to come for the weekend or something. I’m sure we’d be able to get Theo here as well.”

“And you know that we’ll probably have to talk to our parents again about how serious we are.”

“It’ll be worth it. Beside, we are serious,” he points out. “I just feel like we’ve talked about how we plan on being together, but that actually means bringing two families together. And we haven’t done that yet.”

He has that look in his eye and I know there’s no point in trying to convince him against it. I don’t know that I would anyway. I kind of think it’s a good idea. “What do you have in mind?”

That’s how, one week later, we are in the middle of the grocery store as Simon freaks out about family game night. 

“Okay,” Simon says for the fiftieth time. “So no processed shit, right?”

“Right,” I confirm. “No raw fish, only one serving of caffeine a day, for some reason no lunch meats - I have no idea why, she can’t drink certain juices or eat certain cheeses, and by choice she’s trying to stay away from anything processed.”

“She is aware that literally all the good snacks are processed right?” Simon asks. He’s more than a little nervous for tonight, which I don’t understand at all. It’s not like we haven’t met each other’s parents. But for whatever reason, Simon is convinced that if tonight doesn’t go perfectly, we’re going to somehow pit our families against each other and our relationship will explode in a fiery ball of hate. He’s actually used those words and I don’t have the heart to call him dramatic. Not when he’s this stressed out.

“Why don’t we get a veggie tray?” I suggest. “She doesn’t have to eat the ranch dip and it’s something anyone can enjoy.”

“Who chooses veggies over Oreos?” Simon grumbles one last time as we head to the produce aisle. I get why he’s so frustrated over my stepmom’s refusal to eat anything delicious - it does make planning a lot more difficult, but Sheila is taking her pregnancy very seriously and she’s giving someone life, so I’m not about to complain.

Even once we’ve settled on getting a veggie tray, Simon inspects each of them carefully to make sure that he picks the one that is as close to perfect as possible. Like I said. He’s freaking out.

He calls Alice as we’re heading back to the snack aisle. “I got peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies for Nick Eisners and Oreos. Do you and Theo want anything else?” I don’t know what she says, but Simon walks up and down the aisle until he finds the pretzels. And then he frowns for a minute and grabs a bag without surface salt.

“People actually eat them without salt?” I ask surprised.

“Something to do with some medicine Theo’s on,” Simon says with a shrug. “He needs to limit his salt intake. Though I feel like these have more salt than our cookies.”

He puts the bag in the cart anyway and I follow him to the frozen food aisle. I don’t know who he thinks he’s feeding, but he seems determined to have enough food for days. And we’re making dinner, so there really is going to be way too much food. “What’s a good appetizer?” He asks looking through the clear glass and squinting at the various boxes on the shelves.

“Whatever you want to get,” I promise. He glares at me. I know I’m being the opposite of helpful, but I honestly couldn’t care less about what food we have tonight and I doubt any of our families care. The whole point of this is to bring everyone together in the same place so they can meet, not so he can flatter them with food.

He settles on mozzarella sticks.

After the grocery store, we go to this little store that is practically overflowing with board games. Simon’s family is pretty big on creating their own games, so their board game collection consists of Movie Scene-It and a game of Mouse Trap that is missing most of the pieces. Simon thinks their self-invented games are going to scare my family (and I’ve played some of them so I don’t necessarily disagree), so he’s adamant about expanding their board game choices.

He lingers in front of Cards Against Humanity for several minutes before he shakes his head and walks away. “I’m not explaining these cards to our parents,” he says when he sees my confused look.

That makes sense. I think my mom would actually faint if she saw some of those cards. I’ve only played Cards Against Humanity once with the soccer team and it was the most embarrassing game I’ve ever played in my life. “We could do Apples to Apples,” I suggest. “That’s like Cards Against Humanity except it’s safe for parents.”

He sighs. “I feel like Apples to Apples is so played out at this point,” he says. “I guess we could get that if we can’t find anything else, but I want something different for our first family game night.”

His next stop is The Game of Life. “Wow, I haven’t played this since I was a little kid,” I say. I didn’t know they still made it. I used to play it with my cousins every Christmas after we opened presents, but as we got older that tradition faded.

“Is that what you want to play tonight?” he asks me.

I shake my head. “We stopped playing that because we outgrew it,” I tell him. I don't know that I actually outgrew it, but I don't want Simon to think I'm immature or anything. I don't know why that's my worry, especially since Simon self-identifies as a child sometimes. He's looking at me with a weird expression and I think that he sees through my fib, but he moves on. 

He spots a small box tucked away in between some other small boxes. “What do you meme,” he reads. He pulls it out and reads the back of the box. “My parents will love this. And I think your parents will like it too.”

“Then let's do it,” I say eagerly. I just want to finish setting up so that Simon can focus on something other than this game night…  preferably me.

We get back out to his car and Simon rifles through his backpack. “Wait here. I must have left my keys inside.” 

He runs back inside and it takes him almost five minutes to locate his keys.

When we finally get back to his house, Simon sets everything up. He double checks that he has enough folding chairs around the table and that he has enough serving bowls out. He's not going to put out food yet - game night doesn't start for two hours. 

Even after he's double checked that everything is good to go, I practically have to drag him to his bedroom. “Will you stop panicking? Everything is going to go fine,” I assure him.

“And if it doesn’t?” He challenges.

“Then I need you to remember that people make it work with parents that hate each other all the time. It’s not going to happen, but if our parents don’t get along that doesn’t mean anything is going to happen between us. Plus, you freaked out like this when we had to talk to your parents last week and that turned out just fine. Now, correct me if I’m wrong. We have over an hour of uninterrupted adult-free alone time right now. Do you really want to spend it worrying about this?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he starts kissing me. Which really is answer enough.

All the progress I made with him disappears when his parents get home. He’s almost immediately a bundle of nerves again. He stands over his dad as he makes dinner and puts it in the oven - we’re not doing anything particularly fancy. Just chicken fingers and french fries. But because of Sheila’s whole I-won’t-eat-anything-that-comes-premade thing, he makes the chicken fingers and french fries himself.

My mom arrives right on time and wastes no time in doting on Simon. I sometimes think that she actually likes him more than me. Which is fine, because his parents do the same thing to me. Once my mom releases Simon from her hug, we gather around the table. Simon keeps glancing at the two empty seats and his nerves are obvious to everyone.

My dad is running late, but I don’t really expect anything else from them. He used to be late for everything, even before Sheila got pregnant. I remember having to sit in the principal’s office several times in elementary school because he was running late to pick me up. And now, Sheila takes forever to get ready - she actually invested in a couple of pairs of slip on shoes because she is so over it - so I’m even less surprised. On the upside, he drove down this morning so that Sheila would be able to take a nap in their hotel before they came over, so he’s not too far away.

“He’s probably going to be at least thirty minutes, so we can start now if you’d like,” I say to Simon. I put my hand on his knee to try to calm him down.

He hesitates. “Why don’t we all eat and give him a few minutes?” he suggests. I can see he really doesn’t want to start until my dad gets here. His parents have met my mom a couple of times at school events, but they’ve never met my dad or my stepmom so that’s really what Simon’s anxious for.

“I’ll help you get the food from the kitchen,” I offer.

I follow him in and I’m grateful when no one else offers to help. When the door swings shut behind us, I grab his hand. “It doesn’t mean anything that he’s late,” I assure him.

“No, of course not,” he agrees.

“You know how he gets. He couldn’t be on time if his life depended on it.” A small smile crosses his face. “He’ll get here and do you know what will happen? He’ll love you for putting in all this effort and he’ll love your parents and your sister… Theo is a wild card.” Simon laughs. There is little that looks better than Simon when he’s genuinely smiling about something. It makes his whole face light up and makes me feel like nothing can be too bad in a world where that smile exists. “That’s better.”

I kiss him quickly before we pile the chicken fingers and french fries onto serving plates and bring them out. Simon is in a considerably better mood as we eat. He doesn’t even look too upset when my dad still isn’t here when we finish eating. He brings out the snacks.

“I guess we should start,” he says.

“Let the first Spierfeld family game night commence,” his dad says.

Simon has this really weird look on his face “Spierfeld?” He asks.

His dad shrugs. “I just figured it was easier than saying Spier-Greenfeld,” he explains.

“You gave us a ship name,” Simon says. His eyes are wide and I finally understand. This is probably a dream come true for him. He loves power couple names like Drarry - one that I’ve heard more about than anything else. And the fact that his dad has a nickname for our families is probably making him feel like he’s on cloud nine.

“I’m sorry,” my mom says. “A what?”

“A ship name,” Simon repeats.

“Why is there a ship?” My mom asks.

I unintentionally snort and earn myself a glare from my mom. “As in relationship,” I tell her. Simon’s doing pretty well and has managed not to outright laugh in my mom’s face, but I don’t think he’ll be able to hold himself together if he has to explain that to her.

Fortunately, she doesn’t ask any other questions and we start playing the game. It turns out to be perfect. It’s a lot like Apples to Apples, but with memes. Simon laughs so hard during the first round, tears actually escape from his eyes.

I actually read the instructions, so I know that Simon modified game play, but I don’t mind and no one else knows. He makes it a little more user friendly and his dad is the first one to have to pick a meme.

Simon gasps in indignation when he picks mine. “You’d pick Bram’s over your own flesh and blood?” He asks dramatically.

“We like Bram,” his dad says with a shrug. “We tolerate you.”

“Thanks dad.” Simon rolls his eyes. “Really feeling the love.”

We’re only a couple of rounds in when my phone starts to ring. I don’t recognize the number, so I ignore it the first time. But when they call me a second time, I excuse myself and walk into the hallway. “Hello.”

“Hello, I’m looking for Abraham Greenfeld,” a voice says on the other end.

I feel inexplicably terrified. “This is he.”

“My name is Michelle Flaherty. I’m a nurse at Piedmont Hospital,” she says. 

My blood is running icy cold through my body. My thought is on car accidents or maybe some type of accident at their hotel. “What’s wrong? Is my dad okay?” I choke out.

“He’s fine. He asked me to call you. Your mom went into labor,” she explains.

I ignore that she called Sheila my mom. “But she still has six weeks left,” I say. It’s not possible that she went into labor. We specifically scheduled family game night now so that we wouldn’t run the risk of this happening.

“You’re father would like you to come here. He would have called you himself, but he doesn’t have his phone on him,” she tells me. I have a feeling she doesn’t want to talk about the fact that Sheila went into labor prematurely.

“I’ll be there soon,” I promise. “Tell him that. Tell him I’m on my way.” I hang up without waiting for a response. I rush back into the dining room.

“What’s wrong?” Simon asks immediately. He jumps to his feet.

“Baby,” I whisper. That’s all I can get out and I can see the moment he understands what I’m saying.

“Your stepmom went into labor?” He confirms. I nod.

“I’ll drive.” He walks into the kitchen and returns with his keys in hand. “You coming Mrs. Greenfeld?” He looks uncertain. My mom and dad get along alright, but she and Sheila aren’t exactly best friends. She’s been pretty great through the whole pregnancy, but that doesn’t mean she wants to be at the hospital when the baby’s born.

“I think I’ll just go home and wait to hear from Bram,” she says quietly. It can’t be easy knowing that your ex is having a baby with someone else.

I give her a quick hug. “I’ll call you when I hear something,” I promise.

Simon’s mom whispers something to him and he whispers something right back and rolls his eyes. She slips him something that he puts in his pocket. And then we’re off. It’s a good thing he’s driving, because I’m an absolutely mess right now. It’s not even because I’m about to be a big brother, though that’s part of it. I may know nothing about babies, but I don’t think it’s a good thing she went into labor so early.

“What did your dad say?” Simon asks as we drive.

“He didn’t.” I stare out the window because I don’t want him to see how freaked out I am. “I guess he left his phone at the hotel, because some nurse called me.”

“It’ll be okay,” he says softly.

“How do you know?” I ask. I don’t mean to sound so angry with him and fortunately, he brushes it off.

He frowns for a moment. “Did you know Alice was premature?” he asks.

“She was?” I ask surprised. I don’t think I’ve ever heard his parents talk about it before.

“Eight weeks,” he tells me. “My parents used to talk about it more when we were younger. They told us we were all miracles, but that Alice had been a different kind of miracle. They apparently have these special units for premature babies so they can get their weight up and monitor them and stuff.” His hands are gripping the steering wheel. “Alice was on the small side so she was in the hospital for over a month. There are doctors that are specifically trained in stuff like this and they got Alice and my parents through that, so I have to believe that your stepmom and brother will be okay.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

He glances at me before looking back at the road. “I wish I could make this easier on you.”

“You already have. Just by being here,” I tell him seriously. 

“So are you excited to meet your baby brother?” he asks.

“Yeah. I can’t believe he’s coming.” I never really thought that I would be around when my half-brother was born. I just always figured I would be in Atlanta and they would be in Savannah and that at the most, I would see him a couple of days after he was born.

It takes us nearly forty minutes to get to the hospital, because it’s all the way on the other side of Atlanta.

Once we get there, I ask one of the nurses to tell my dad we’re here and I sit next to Simon in one of the chairs. They’re comfier than I thought they would be. You always hear about how uncomfortable the waiting room is… and it is uncomfortable, but not because of the furniture. It’s the fear of the unknown that makes it uncomfortable.

A nurse finds me after we’ve been sitting here for almost three hours. “We tried to delay the birth, but there’s nothing else we can do,” she tells us. “Your mom is going to give birth via Cesarean, because we cannot safely deliver vaginally.” 

I give Simon a lot of credit, because he normally would have made some kind of face or weird noise at that, but he’s holding it in. He looks nauseated and I don’t blame him. I’m feeling the same way. I don’t think a stepson should ever have to hear vagina and stepmom in the same sentence. “Will she be okay?” I ask. “And my brother? Will he be okay?”

“She’s almost at 34 weeks, so your brother is considered a late preterm.” I don’t try to point out that that’s a bit of an oxymoron. “The odds are that he’ll be fine, but there are always circumstances that can change that.” She looks at me apologetically. “I wish I could give you a definite answer.”

I nod. “How long will the c-section take?” I ask.

“A couple of minutes. It’s an emergency c-section because of the erratic heart rate reading we’re getting on the baby and because he’s in the birth canal in a breech position, so we want to get him out and under our care as quickly as possible,” she explains. “The sooner we get him out, the more likely that we’ll be able to help him.”

Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better. “Thank you for your time,” I tell her.

Once she leaves, I lean back towards Simon. He eagerly accepts me into his arms. He doesn’t try to say anything, which I’m grateful for. There’s nothing he could say right now that would make me feel better.

It’s almost two more hours before my dad comes out. He has a huge smile on his face and in that moment, I know everything’s going to be okay. “Caleb,” he says when he gets close to us. I realize he’s been crying by the puffiness around his eyes. “Five pounds four ounces. 16 inches.”

“He’s okay?” I confirm.

“They both are. Caleb was breech, so they had to take her in for a c-section. There was no safe way to turn him and for some reason, his heart rate kept rising and falling. They were worried he was in distress, but he’s fine. Sheila’s sleeping. She was just moved to her postpartum room and Caleb’s going to spend some time in the Neonatal unit, but he’s beautiful. He’s big for 34 weeks, which is in his favor,” he says. “They don’t allow visitors to the ward this late at night, but you’ll be able to meet him in the morning.” He hugs me tight. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” I whisper back. I close my eyes. Caleb. My baby brother.

My dad pulls back and wipes his eyes. “You can see Sheila if you want to, but she’s sleeping right now and she’ll probably be asleep until a nurse comes in to…” he glances at us. “To get food for the baby.”

I immediately understand - though I really wish I didn’t and I appreciate my dad’s failed attempt to shield us from that. Simon, however, is clueless. “Don’t they have food in the hospital for the baby?”

I elbow him lightly and shake my head. “We’ll check in on both of them in the morning,” I tell him. I glance at my watch. It’s almost 2am. “When will we be able to see Caleb?”

“Visiting hours start at 11, but you’re his brother, so I think we’ll be able to get you in to see him earlier if you’re back that soon. When you get here, come see Sheila and we’ll see what we can do.” My dad rubs his eyes again. He must be exhausted.

“Do you need me to get anything for you? The nurse said you didn’t have your phone on you. We can stop by your hotel and pick it up,” I offer.

My dad looks relieved. “That would be great,” he says. “Sheila’s phone is there too and I don’t know her parents’ numbers off the top of my head.” He rifles through his pocket and hands me his key card.

“Anything else you need?” I ask.

“Not right now,” he assures me. “I’m going to go back to be with Sheila. I don’t want her to wake up and be all alone. I’m sure she’ll have questions about Caleb.”

“Go. I’ll see you in the morning.” I give him one last hug before he darts down the hallway to get back to Sheila. He really loves her.

I follow Simon out of the hospital. “Are you going to get any sleep tonight?” Simon asks after he turns his car on.

“Considering it’s going to take us almost an hour to get back to your place, I doubt that,” I point out.

Simon looks at me and I notice the faint red tinge in his cheeks. He looks like he’s having an argument inside his head. “My mom gave me her credit card,” he tells me quietly.

“Why?” I ask.

“She said if we left the hospital too late, she didn’t want me driving if I was going to fall asleep,” he admits.

“Are you going to fall asleep?”

“Definitely not,” he tells me. There’s something in his expression that’s giving me the distinct impression that I’m missing something. He sighs. “I’m supposed to be the oblivious one, right?”

“You are the oblivious one,” I point out.

“My mom gave me a credit card so we could stay in a hotel and you’re really concerned about whether I’m going to fall asleep while driving?” Just this once, Simon may have been the less oblivious of the two of us. Though I’m not going to admit that out loud.

“I didn’t know that’s what it was for,” I say breathlessly. It’s a good thing there are no less than twenty hotels within walking distance of the hospital. “Take your pick.”

We’re both still awake when the sun rises. Simon’s head is resting on my shoulder and he’s tracing random patterns on my stomach with his hand. Despite the fact that we didn’t get any sleep last night, I feel weirdly well-rested.

Reluctantly, I push myself up. “We probably should get to my dad’s hotel,” I say. I don’t want to leave the comfort of our bed.

Simon looks at the clock on the wall. “It’s only eight,” he protests. 

I push myself out of bed and turn to him. I try to ignore the hungry look on his face. “My dad’s hotel is almost thirty minutes away. And I want breakfast before we go back to the hospital.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. He jumps out of bed and stretches. He has no modesty, but I don’t particularly mind.

We get dressed and as we’re about to leave, I see Simon regard his bag nervously. I wonder if he forgot something, but he slings it over his shoulder and we’re off. I call my mom on the way.

My dad’s hotel room is pretty messy. I grab him a change of clothes from his suitcase and track down his and Sheila’s phones. Before we leave, I stop at the front desk and tell the man working there what happened. He’s able to extend my dad’s stay for another night and lets us know that my dad will have to present his card if he needs additional days.

I doubt he will - if he needs to stay past that, he’d probably pick a hotel closer to the hospital, but checkout is in two hours and I know he won’t be back for that.

Simon and I grab a quick breakfast at Waffle House and then we’re back at the hospital. The security guard at the front desk puts up a bit of a fuss about us being here before visiting hours - we’re only thirty minutes early, but when he calls Sheila’s room, my dad comes out to get us and we’re allowed back.

I try not to smile when my dad calls both of us his sons. I know he just did it so we could both come see Sheila, but it still means a lot to me. I can tell it means something to Simon too.

“How’s Caleb?” I ask.

“He’s good,” my dad tells us. “They’re anticipating that he’ll be here two weeks.”

“Two weeks? Is that normal?” I ask.

“From what they told us, yes. They said most babies are here longer. He can mostly breath on his own, but he needs some help. And he’s not gaining weight yet. He actually saw a loss on his last weigh-in,” my dad explains. “But we’ve both been allowed to hold him. He’s so tiny and they keep telling us that he’s big for 34 weeks.” My dad shakes his head and walks into a room. Sheila’s in here with another woman who is trying to soothe a crying baby. That seems like poor planning. Shouldn’t she be alone or with someone who isn’t basking in the joys of having a baby that doesn’t need special attention?

I see Sheila look at the woman longingly and I realize I’m not the only one who thinks that this arrangement sucks. “Hey,” I say softly. I don’t really feel comfortable calling her mom and I can’t call her Sheila to her face, so I typically avoid calling her any name. “How are you feeling?”

She smiles when she sees me and it’s the first time I get a good look at her. She looks exhausted. “I feel fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I tell her sincerely. I’m itching to see Caleb, but I don’t want to make it seem like I don’t care about Sheila.

“Were you able to sleep much last night?” Simon asks.

“On and off. Caleb has to eat every two hours, so I’m up at least that often. In fact,” she glances at the nurse that just walked in. “I believe it’s time to feed him again. You’ll be able to see him after that.”

The nurse helps Sheila into a wheelchair. “Should we just wait here?” I ask.

“You can come with us,” Sheila tells me. “I think for your comfort, you’ll want to wait outside the unit though.”

“And you’ll let us know when we can come in?”

“A couple of nurses will walk you through what you need to do before you can go in,” Sheila tells us.

The nurse wheels her out and we wait until my dad walks out as well to follow them. By the time a nurse has us wash our hands and use this really bad smelling hand sanitizer, I’m practically buzzing with excitement. It takes 20 minutes before my dad waves us in. For a moment, it’s overwhelming. 

There have to be almost two dozen little baby beds that look a lot like the incubators we used to hatch eggs in elementary school, most of them filled with newborns hooked up to a varying amount of wires. Women are next to almost every bed and some even have other family members around them. Some women are holding their babies, some are merely touching them through the incubator, and even more look like they’re praying over their babies. The ones praying make my heart ache.

Sheila is one of the mom’s holding her kid. Caleb isn’t hooked up to nearly as many wires as most of the other babies, but he has tubing that goes to his nose and a needle sticks out of his small arm.

He is so tiny, but compared to some of the other babies in here, he’s a giant. I don’t think I’ve ever seen babies this small before. 

I bring one of my fingers to his hand and he wraps his tiny fingers around it. I don’t care if the nurse says it’s a baby’s instinct to do this. I’m going to choose to believe he somehow knows that I’m his big brother. “Can I hold him?” I ask uncertainly. I’ve never held a baby this small or young, and I’m surprised by how much I want to. There’s that terror that I might drop him or something, but maybe I do have the brotherly instincts Simon is always talking about, because I feel more protective than scared.

“Make sure you support his head.” Just as Sheila’s about to pass him to me, a machine makes a sound that reminds me of an alarm going off and I jump about a mile. Understandably, she holds Caleb protectively to her chest.

“That happens all the time,” my dad tells me. That information would have helped thirty seconds ago.

I give Sheila a couple of minutes before I ask to hold him again. She makes me sit down first and I agree to that readily enough. It’s hard to believe he weighs anything when he’s in my arms. He feels so small and weightless. I carefully support his head and make sure I don’t tug on his IV or do anything that would disrupt the tubes and wires keeping him safe and healthy. I don’t realize I’m crying until Simon wipes under my eyes. He rests his hands on my shoulders.

“He’s a handsome baby Mrs. Greenfeld,” Simon compliments.

It’s still weird to me that he calls both Sheila and my mom Mrs. Greenfeld, but there’s nothing he can do about it. They are both technically Mrs. Greenfeld.

To Sheila and my dad’s credit, they don’t ask for Caleb back until they have to change him and at that point, I’m more than willing to hand him over. How could something so small smell so bad?

“I have a kind of big favor to ask,” my dad says while we’re waiting outside so Sheila can feed Caleb. I never knew babies ate so often.

“Ask away.”

“We don’t have anything for Caleb here because we never thought she’d go into labor this early,” my dad explains. “Sheila’s baby bag. Our carseat. Diapers. It’s all home.”

“In Savannah,” I finish.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Do you have a list of stuff you need?”

“I can put one together. Are you sure? It’s a long drive,” he says guiltily. “I wouldn’t ask, but…”

He glances back into the NICU. “But you don’t want to leave Caleb,” I guess. He nods. “Well, no offense dad. But you’re in serious need of a shower. Let’s spend a few more hours here and then why don’t I bring you back to your hotel room so you can shower and then you can drive back here and…” I glance at Simon. “We’ll figure out Savannah.” It occurs to me that Simon’s parents might not be crazy about him roadtripping to Savannah with me and I really don’t want to make that drive by myself.

I’m grateful my dad agrees to that, because he really is starting to smell pretty bad. Bad enough that Sheila’s wrinkled her nose at him a few times.

We make the most of our time with Caleb and when I drop my dad off at his hotel, our first stop is Simon’s place. We’re both wearing the same clothes we were wearing yesterday and we’re definitely going to need to shower when we get to my dad’s place. The first part of the battle of getting to my dad’s house is convincing Simon’s parents to let us go.

It’s easier than I expect. I think his parents feel bad for me and my dad or maybe they can just relate to what he’s going through, because they agree without us having to push them too hard.

Simon grabs some clothes and then we go to my house. My mom has about 100 questions about Caleb and I try to answer all of them. She’s not thrilled that I’m driving to Savannah, but she doesn’t put up a fight when I tell her about it.

By the time we get to Savannah, I’m more ready for sleep than I ever thought possible. I’m barely in the guest room before I collapse on the bed and fall asleep.

When I wake up, Simon is sitting up in bed and is looking through one of my dad’s magazines. “Morning,” I say with a yawn. I sit up and stretch.

“Afternoon is more like it,” he says.

I glance at the clock. It’s almost 1pm. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I felt like you deserved some sleep,” he says with a grin.

“Well thank you.” I kiss his cheek.

He pulls back from me and looks conflicted. “I love you and all, but you smell like man sweat. And not the good kind. The after soccer practice kind,” he tells me.

I chuckle. “You’re not smelling so hot yourself,” I tease.

 

After he showers, Simon goes down to the kitchen to figure out breakfast. When I get down there, Simon is singing to himself and is dancing around the kitchen. He has a mixing bowl of some type of batter and he’s periodically adding to it and stirring.

While he’s adding a little more flour to it, I sneak up behind him and wrap my arms around his chest. I kiss his cheek. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Do you know what I love about your dad and stepmom?” he asks.

“No, what?” It’s hard not to laugh when he’s acting so carefree and silly right now.

“They have a waffle iron,” he says pointing at something that is bulky and white and smoking a little as it preheats.

I chuckle. “So am I to assume that we’re having waffles for breakfast?”

“No. I’m making pancakes,” he says sarcastically.

“Okay, okay. That may not have been the smartest question,” I concede. “This is fancy.”

“Well, you’ve had a stressful couple of days and you’re officially a big brother. I figured we should celebrate,” he says with a grin. In a couple of minutes, the smell of waffles wafts through the kitchen. Simon pulls some fruit out of the fridge. “No reason to let it go bad.” He washes it and cuts it up perfectly. “Can you put this on the table?”

He hands it to me and I turn to put it on the kitchen table. I almost drop it. Simon has set the kitchen table. I can tell which chair is mine, because he has a balloon drawn on a piece of paper taped on the wall above it. ‘Congrats Big Brother Bram’ is written across several sheets of paper and is taped above that. In my seat is a box that is wrapped in lined paper.

“I’m noticing a theme here,” I say quietly.

“I didn’t exactly have a lot of notice,” he says with a shrug.

“Did you get me a gift?” I ask.

“Well, I remember being so upset because Nora got a crazy amount of presents when she was born. And it didn’t make sense to me, because all she did was cry, eat, and poop. I did all those things when I was two and no one gave me presents. So, I wanted to get you something that you’ll be able to do with Caleb when he’s older. So it’s kind of a joint gift, but not for a couple of years,” he explains. “Don’t open it until I’m done here.”

I’m dying to see what he got me, but he went through all this trouble for me. The least I can do is wait it out.

I don’t have to wait long. Simon realizes pretty quickly that the waffles only take about two minutes to be perfectly golden-brown, so before long there’s a heaping pile of waffles in the center of my dad’s kitchen table.

Simon waits until I eat one waffle and have another on my plate to say, “okay, open it.”

He looks really excited and I understand why when I rip off the paper. It’s the Game of Life. “When did you get this?” I ask. I’ve literally been with him every second since we were in that board game store.

“When I ‘left’ my keys inside,” he says using air quotes. “I didn’t think I was going to get to give it to you this soon, but Caleb had other plans.”

“Thanks for doing all this.” I glance down at the table. I always feel so inadequate when he does stuff like this. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You are always there for me,” he says seriously. I think he heard the legitimate insecurity behind my questions. “You help me reign in some of my drama and you pretty much offered to go to war against my parents. You deserve everything and more.” I take a bite of my waffle because I’m in serious danger of doing something ridiculous like squealing. “I’m serious.” He’s looking at me intensely. “I know you don’t like hearing these things about yourself, because you are insane. But it doesn’t make those things any less true. And I hope that one day, you’ll see yourself the way I do.”

We ate in silence after that. It’s not that I thought I was a bad person and I don’t hate the occasional compliment, I just never liked when Simon piled them all onto each other like that. I don’t know. Maybe he is right. Maybe I don’t believe all those things about me. But I also think that Simon is really biased when it comes to me. I feel like I sound way more self-deprecating than I mean to and Simon’s glaring at me as if he can read my thoughts.

After breakfast, it’s a scavenger hunt to find the stuff my dad needs. It was both a blessing and a curse that they’d already had Sheila’s baby shower. Good because it meant they had pretty much everything they needed. Bad because we had to shift through boxes and bags to find what we want. I also grab some clothes for Sheila and my dad. I doubt either of them are going to make the drive down here until Caleb is ready to come home and if it’s gonna be two weeks, they’re going to need some clothes.

We don’t get back to Atlanta until almost midnight and for the first time in two days, we spend the night apart. I miss Simon the whole time and it almost scares me how much I wish he were with me. It’s not even the feelings of loneliness. He’s been such a great support through this whole thing and now that he’s home, I feel terrified that something will somehow go wrong with Caleb. As if he can sense it or maybe because he feels the same way, Simon calls me when he gets home.

It’s a long two weeks. Sheila and my dad are allowed to visit Caleb whenever they want, so they typically take shifts so he was never alone. Since Sheila got discharged, they’d been staying at a hotel that was literally across from the hospital. Because I’m not Caleb’s parent and apparently being his brother isn’t a close enough relationship to have 24 hour access to the NICU, I am restricted to visiting hours, but I make a point of coming with Simon a couple of times a week.

When Caleb’s been in the hospital two weeks and four days, we get the news that he’s gaining weight at a steady level which means he gets to go home. It’s news that’s met with a lot of relief and a few jealous looks from the mothers around us.

I am kind of sad that I won’t see them again. I feel like I know a lot of the people in here, like we were united in our fear and our hopes these last few weeks. I think my dad and Sheila feel the same way, but they are too relieved that Caleb is finally healthy enough to come home to feel too sad.

They are going to stay at the hotel a few more nights before they try to make the four hour drive with Caleb. It’s going to suck regardless, but I think they’re anxious about transporting him anywhere.

It’s weird once he’s gone. It’s weird knowing that weeks are going to pass before I’ll get to see him and that he’ll do so much growing while I’m gone. Sometimes it makes me sad and when it does, Simon is always there.

When we go to visit them before school starts, I barely recognize Caleb. Simon insists he looks like me, but I’m not so sure. He’s definitely the cutest baby brother I ever could have asked for and thanks to Simon’s photography efforts, we have about 1000 pictures of me and him making silly faces at the camera. It’s one of the few times I don’t mind having my picture taken.

It isn’t until December that I remember that we never finished our family game night… or properly started it, really. The reminder comes in the form of my dad when he’s calling about Hotel Hanukkah. 

Apparently Sheila feels really bad that she ruined family game night. I didn’t realize until my dad told me, but Sheila had really been looking forward to it. She felt like Simon was really trying to include her as part of the family, which I guess I never really made an effort to do. Really, until I started dating Simon and he forced me to get to know her, I harbored a fair amount of resentment towards Sheila and it was all over things that were out of her control. Mr. Sexual Awakening and the fact that things worked with her and my dad when they didn’t work with my mom.

Hearing how flattered Sheila was to be invited and that she’s willing to drive Caleb up for Hotel Hanukkah so that we can do family game night for real the next night makes me determined to make it happen.

On one condition. I have no intention of telling Simon. He freaked out so badly last time, so I make my dad agree not to drop any hints. I’d already invited Simon to Hotel Hanukkah, because it went so well last time and I couldn’t uninvite him. I really don’t want to uninvite him, but I worry that if my dad’s not carful Simon might realize what’s happening, no matter how oblivious as he could be. It doesn’t take my dad long to agree.

Getting Simon’s parents on board is easy enough as well. They remember how psychotic… I mean nervous Simon had been, so I think they’re more eager to keep it a secret than I am.

The hardest part is figuring out how to get Theo down here without looking suspicious. It was one thing Simon had been adamant about when he’d been planning the first family game night, so I figured it still applies. Alice is coming home two days before Hotel Hanukkah and she thinks she can swing telling Simon that Theo helped her move out.

With that, the plans are solidified. By the time game night rolls around, I’m beginning to understand why Simon was so panicked about it. A lot of planning goes into it and it’s so hard to keep it all from him. It’s all worth it when I lead Simon to his kitchen and he sees both of our families sitting around the kitchen table.

“Ready for Spierfeld family game night version 2.0?” Simon’s dad asks with a small smile on his face.Simon turns to me. “How?”

I shrug. “We all wanted to make this ha

ppen. We knew it meant a lot to you.”

I think Simon had a momentary lapse of insanity because he suddenly kisses me. And not like a quick peck. Granted, it isn’t nearly as intense as many of our other kisses, but it’s far more than we’ve ever done in front of our parents. And not to mention that his sisters are here. And Caleb, though I doubt he’s at an age where he’s remembering anything. When he breaks the kiss, I stand in a daze. The only thing I process is the euphoric look on Simon’s face.

I get it though, I realize as I watch him greet my family and play with Caleb. There are some moments where we are just so overwhelmed with emotion that it can’t be expressed with words.

It makes me look forward to sharing a lifetime of those moments with him.


End file.
